Resistance
by ClubBreakfast
Summary: There's a banshee on the loose, a terrible creature that will worm its way into your mind and latch on until you're dead or it is. Arthur, the knights and Merlin have the challenge of killing it before it claims any more lives. But when it claims Merlin as its next victim, no one is prepared for the consequences... (New account, previous was NerdBurga)
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, new story on my new profile! I had an account under the username NerdBurga but FF stopped letting me log in and I had to make a new account. So, check out my stories there too if you want.**

**I expect this to be a fairly long story. It's based before the start of season 4, and all the lore on banshees I completely made up so don't expect them to be an accurate depiction. And I haven't written in a little while, so I may be a bit rusty. All the same, I hope you enjoy!**

"So Merlin, what will you be cooking for us tonight?"

Merlin smiled at the enthusiasm in Gwaine's voice over a simple meal and replied "whatever you catch for me."

They were riding their horses along a narrow forest path, one week's ride away from Camelot. Having heard reports of a banshee near the edge of the kingdom, Arthur had immediately readied himself, his five best knights and his manservant on a quest to go out and slay it. They were nearing the area of the sightings and expected to begin the search tomorrow.

Banshees were terrible things, dangerous and easily underestimated. According to Gaius, they could get into your mind and take the form of anyone you knew. Once they had targeted you, they would become someone you had lost and convince you to join them in death. This was how they gained power, by taking the souls of others. Apparently the more powerful the banshee, the stronger the victim they targeted.

Considering the one leading them was the regent of Camelot, Merlin was feeling pretty nervous about this quest.

"A truly competent servant would be able to catch the food himself, _Mer_lin." Ah yes, speaking of his royal pratness.

"Really, Arthur? You want me running around with a bow and arrow?"

Even riding behind him, Merlin could sense the grimace on his friend's face. "No. No, you have a point there. I've seen you shoot. You couldn't hit _me_ if I were twice as big."

"Keep eating the way you do and we'll find out," was the immediate retort. The knights were all snickering behind them, even Leon allowing himself an amused smile. Arthur didn't reply, but Merlin could practically hear the fuming.

_Merlin…_

The manservant whipped his head to the side, pulling the reins on his horse. Merlin squinted through the dense trees, searching for the source of what felt like a whisper in his ear. That voice… he _knew_ that voice…

"Merlin, what are you doing? Other than holding everyone up!"

He looked back to the path where Arthur sat on his horse, annoyed, and realised all of the knights had been forced to stop behind him. "Oh. Uh… sorry. Thought I heard something." He urged his horse forward and quickly caught up to Arthur, who just rolled his eyes and looked forward again.

From just behind him, he heard Lancelot murmur "something we need to be worried about?"

Merlin shook his head slightly. He'd just been imagining things. That voice… it couldn't have been.

Elyan started up the conversation again but Merlin remained silent and in his own thoughts for the rest of the ride.

They finally reached a clearing in the forest just as the sun began to set, already dimmed by the thick canopy above them. As the knights tied their horses to trees around the clearing Merlin began his search for firewood and they all fell into the now familiar routine of setting up camp. The manservant slowly wandered away from the others, picking up any broken branches or twigs he found.

_Merlin…_

Merlin froze mid-crouch, reaching for a branch about as thick as his arm.

_Merlin…_

He quickly stood and looked around him. He definitely knew that voice. He would never mistake it for another. But it couldn't be possible…

"Planning on burning the whole forest?"

Merlin spun around only to come face to face with Gwaine, an amused look on his face. "What?"

He nodded to the wood Merlin was carrying. "I think you've got enough, mate."

The manservant looked down to see the pile he'd collected was almost overflowing in his arms. "Oh. I wasn't really paying attention."

"Clearly. The princess said he didn't want anyone going off alone." Gwaine stepped forward and swung his arm around Merlin's neck, leading the skinnier boy back to camp. "Can't be too careful with a banshee floating around, can we?"

"I'm pretty sure they don't float, Gwaine."

The knight shrugged. "Have you ever seen a banshee? No? Then how would you know, hmm?"

* * *

The royal party sat around a healthy fire, Merlin's rabbit stew settling in their stomachs. It was well and truly dark now and they sat around the flames as if drawn to the source of light. Merlin stared into the centre where the wood was black and glowing, deep in thought. He was half-sure he was going crazy. The more rational part of him was convinced the voice he heard was just caused by lack of sleep and too much travelling on horseback. He didn't sleep well on the hard ground, his bones constantly knocking against some rock or other, and horseback, while quicker than walking, was never going to feel completely natural to him. He was sore and tired and sick of travelling. He was simply… thinking too much. Just a trick of his imagination.

As hard as Merlin tried to convince himself, though, he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to be right.

"…'lin?" Or are you completely incompetent?"

Merlin forced his eyes away from the fire and looked at Arthur, trying to focus. "Sorry, what?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and Percival attempted to hide a chuckle with a cough. "What is with you today?" the prince asked exasperatedly. "You haven't listened to a word I've said."

"I'm just waiting for something worth listening to, sire," Merlin replied easily. The grin fell on his face and Arthur huffed, but internally Merlin was still worlds away.

* * *

"We'll split up into two groups. Percival and Gwaine with me, Lancelot and Elyan with Leon." Arthur ordered. "Meet back here in three hours to report. Remember, if you encounter the banshee it may be disguised. Keep your wits sharp." There was a chorus of 'yes sire' and Arthur took a breath, readying himself for the inevitable argument. "Merlin, I want you to stay here. No sense getting in the way."

"Fine."

"I don't want to hear it Merlin, you're not trained for - sorry, what?" Arthur stared at his manservant, leaning against a tree by his horse, eyes on the ground in front of him. The younger man shrugged.

"Fine. I'll stay here."

Arthur continued to stare, aware his knights were doing the same. Merlin obeying a command without complaint was rare. Merlin agreeing to stay behind? It was unheard of. "You… you will?" He couldn't keep the scepticism out of his voice. Not that he tried.

"Yes, fine, you're right, I'm not trained to face a bloody banshee," Merlin said. He sounded impatient. "I'll stay here, look after the horses or whatever."

"Well… good." Arthur replied lamely. His mind was still having trouble processing. Really, this only confirmed what he'd begun to suspect yesterday - something was quite wrong with his friend. Arthur repressed a sigh. He'd have to sort it out later, and finding out what was wrong with Merlin was like trying to pull a sword from a stone. Shaking his head, he gestured for Percival and Gwaine (both looking at Merlin as if he'd grown another head) to follow him further into the trees.

* * *

"Maybe he's sick," Elyan suggested as he, Leon and Lancelot walked through the forest. They were all spread out, but still within seeing and speaking distance of each other. Just in case. Lancelot lagged behind slightly, reluctant. Clearly Merlin was up to something, and he was loathe to leave the boy to do it alone. But he couldn't stay behind without raising all sorts of questions, and Merlin had shot him a look that just screamed 'go away'. It didn't help his suspicions.

"Maybe," replied Leon. "I'm honestly not sure that would stop him though." If Lancelot wasn't too busy being worried he would find it funny how concerned it made everyone when Merlin actually followed an order. "Perhaps we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth," Leon continued. "He'd be easy pickings if we came across the banshee."

"Merlin is stronger than you give him credit for," Lancelot inserted. It wasn't the wisest thing to say but he hated how badly his friend was underestimated. If only they could know what he knew…

"I don't doubt the boy has spirit," Leon said, fondness in his voice. "But that will only get you so far against an enemy of magic, Lancelot."

The other knight quickly bit his lip before a laugh escaped him. Before he had to think of a reply, however, Elyan interrupted.

"Do you guys hear that?"

The other two knights immediately stopped and strained their ears. Lancelot could hear nothing over the leaves rustling in the breeze and a bird singing nearby. But Elyan drew his sword and advanced quickly, an almost frightened look on his face. Leon and Lancelot exchanged glances before pulling out their own swords and following him. Elyan was running as if the devil were after him, and the other two had to sprint to catch up. "Elyan!" Leon called, "slow down!"

Elyan came to an abrupt stop, but as his fellow knights reached him and stopped at his side, they realised it was not because Leon had ordered him to.

Standing there with sad eyes and his arms outstretched, was a tall, dark skinned man with cropped hair. The man took a step towards them and said mournfully, "Elyan."

Elyan stared at the man, unmoving, and whispered in a wavering voice, "Father?"

Leon immediately stepped in front of Elyan with his sword held in front of him. "Your father is dead, Elyan." Lancelot, catching on, grabbed Elyan's arm and tried to pull him back but the man yelled and wrenched his arm away as if burned.

The banshee was here. And it had found its victim.

"Son," the banshee called out in the man's deep voice, "where were you?" He took another step forward and Leon raised his sword higher. "I was in trouble, I needed your help! Where were you?"

Elyan's breath hitched and he tried to move closer but Lancelot again pulled him back, this time not letting go when the knight struggled. He had to get him out of here. Now. "Father, I'm…"

"It's not him, Elyan!" Leon yelled, never taking his eyes off the imposter. "Think! It's in your head!"

"Why weren't you there? Why didn't you protect me? I wanted to be with my son!"

"Elyan, you have to listen to us," Lancelot murmured as Elyan continued to struggle, trying desperately to reach his 'father'. "Your father is gone. Your father would never blame you!" He may have never known the man, but he knew his children. That was enough.

"No, no that's him!" Elyan slammed himself back against Lancelot, causing his hand to slip, and hastily stepped forward, only for Leon to push him back. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry father! Please, I wish I had been there! Please forgive me!"

"You weren't there for me," the banshee moaned, ignoring the other two knights. He looked to Elyan with an imitation of hope. "But you are now." Cursing, Lancelot quickly sidestepped behind a tree and quickly, quietly, made his way around the creature. "Will you stay with me this time, son? Will you join me?"

Elyan stared, his hands shaking on his sword. Leon abandoned caution and turned to his friend, gripping him by the shoulders. "Listen to me, listen! You can't do this, Elyan, he wants you dead! Your father would never ask such a thing of you, and you know it! Think about it, just think Elyan!"

"Join me, Elyan!" the banshee yelled over Leon to be heard. "Stay with me this time, please! I need you! I - " Its voice tapered off and it looked down in shock at the sword suddenly protruding from its chest. Lancelot stood behind him and slid his sword back out, the banshee falling to its knees.

"NO!" Elyan fought against Leon's hold, trying to run to his father. His eyes widened as suddenly the creature's form began to shift and bend as if being seen through rippling water. Its flesh bulged and sank chaotically and finally its head shot up with an inhuman wail. Its body turned to char and exploded to ash, floating up with the wind and coating Lancelot in a fine layer. An uneasy quiet fell over the forest and, very slowly, Leon let go of his friend, who fell heavily to the ground.

Lancelot joined them and crouched in front of Elyan, who's distant eyes gradually seemed to focus again. He stared at the spot where the banshee had been and for a moment Lancelot worried he was in shock. But then the man was letting out a shaky breath and hunching his shoulders, as if a sudden weight had been dropped on him.

"I'm sorry, Elyan," Lancelot muttered.

Elyan shook his head and forced himself to his feet, Leon and Lancelot doing the same. "I… I don't know what came over me."

Leon rested a hand on his shoulder, his voice sorrowful as he spoke. "It was magic, my friend. We are powerless against its ways." Lancelot said nothing, only sheathed his sword. "We should head back to the campsite. We'll have some time to…" he glanced at Elyan as he sheathed his own sword, "rest. Before the others get back."

* * *

As expected, they were the first ones back, and Elyan immediately went to sit down by the fire where a pot of something was bubbling away for lunch. He looked like he'd run ten miles. Probably felt it too.

Distracted, Lancelot looked about, and suddenly felt a shiver of unease creep up his spine. "Where's Merlin?" he asked.

The warlock was nowhere to be seen.

**I'm sorry, I couldn't help the 'sword in the stone' simile. TBC!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Another chapter done already, aww yeahhh. Want to take bets on how long my fast updates will last? (Hey, it was cool to see familiar names on the reviews! I missed you guys!)**

Merlin watched the knights leave from the corner of his eye, leaning against the tree as he attempted to feign nonchalance. He'd heard the whisper of his name throughout the night, making for even less sleep than usual, and by the early hours of the morning it had evolved into a call. A plea. And it broke Merlin's heart every time. This was more than just his imagination, and he intended to find out just what was going on. But he couldn't very well do it hanging around those so loyal to Camelot. This was too close to home. It could mean they found out about him, about the real him, and next thing he would find himself on the pyre.

Not that he really thought… Well, it wasn't exactly the time to risk it.

Merlin counted to one hundred before going off on his own search. He could feel the pull, had sensed it since breakfast. Something - some_one_ wanted him to find them. Merlin's focus zeroed in on that tug and blocked out all else. He didn't pay attention to where he was going or how far he was from the campsite. Only the pull, and the voice that was now chanting in his head, getting louder as he got closer.

_Merlin._

_Merlin!_

"Merlin!"

Merlin froze and looked up from where he'd been staring at the ground as he walked. Arthur, Percival and Gwaine were all watching him, the former with a look of pure frustration "Uh… Hey."

"_Hey?_ That's all you have for me, _hey_? I bloody knew it was too good to be true! My manservant actually obeying an order, oh we can't have that, can we? The whole damn world would flip upside down, god forbid!" Gwaine watched on, amused, as Arthur ranted. Percival simply shot Merlin a sympathetic look.

Hastily, the younger man cut in. "Arthur, calm down. I was just… hunting."

Arthur stared at him. "Hunting?"

"Yes, hunting! You keep complaining about how I should, so here I am, looking for something to feed you lot when you get back." Merlin rolled his eyes and continued "excuse me for trying to be helpful. I can promise it won't happen again, sire."

There was a moment of Arthur just continuing to stare at him in disbelief, until finally the regent said "well stay closer to the campsite, at least. I told you to stay there for a reason."

Merlin gave a mock bow and turned, reluctantly going back the way he'd come. Great. Now he'd actually have to catch something for them.

* * *

In the end he couldn't bring himself to kill the poor rabbit he'd caught (with a little magic cheating). The bugger had looked up with him with ridiculously sad eyes. Really, he didn't have a choice but to let it go.

Merlin did, however, forage for roots and grab a handful of herbs from his pack to make a soup. He was stirring it absently over the fire when he finally heard his name again. The pull was much stronger this time, as if impatient, and Merlin had no qualms about picking back up on the trail immediately. Food forgotten, he dashed through the trees, this time glancing about him to make sure he didn't run into any more unwanted interruptions. His heart raced as his name was yelled over and over in his head, his feet almost tripping over themselves in his haste. Leaves crunched beneath his boots and he pushed branches out of his way, finally breaking into a run.

Eventually he saw a figure in the distance, and suddenly stopped, unsure. Hearing that voice again was exciting, exhilarating, but now that he was so close to the source, it was also terrifying.

The warlock crept forwards, blood pounding in his ears. He didn't stop until he was close enough to reach out and touch the other person. But he kept his arms by his sides and only stared, waiting for himself to wake up and it to have all been an impossible dream.

Standing there, smiling sadly at him, was Freya.

She looked healthier than he remembered. Her face was more rounded, her arms no longer so thin. Her skin was clean and she had more colour to her cheeks. Her dark hair fell across her shoulders, rich and thick and shining in the sun. But she still wore that same dress, a mirage of purple and blue that had suited her so well. Merlin could not tear his eyes away if he wanted to, and he didn't think he ever would. This was Freya. His Freya. She was here, she was…

She was dead. Freya was dead. Merlin took a step back and shook his head, trying to clear it. It was if someone had poured murky water into his head, his brain slow and sluggish.

"I've missed you so much, Merlin."

Merlin stared at her, shivering at those words. It was exactly her voice, exactly how he remembered it. But something about this… this wasn't right.

"Haven't you missed me, Merlin?"

"Every day." He had to move past what felt to be a sudden rock in his throat to answer. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her, confirm that she was real. But something inside of him, something that felt suspiciously like his magic, was screaming at him to leave, to run away and not look back.

Her smile warmed with his answer and she stepped closer to him. "Were you lonely? Without me?" Her hand reached up, as if to cup his cheek. Merlin held his breath.

"I…"

"I was lonely." The hand dropped with her smile and she stepped back. "I've been so lonely since you left me."

Merlin stepped forward, unwilling to have that distance back so soon. "No Freya, I didn't leave you, I - "

"Yes you did," she hissed. All warmth had drained from her face. She looked angry and cold. "You left me to be attacked and cornered. Like an animal! You left me to die!"

Merlin could feel his heart shattering with every word. "Please Freya, I never meant for you to get hurt. I wanted to save you!"

"You promised me," Freya said, her voice breaking, her face crumpling. "You promised you would protect me. We were going to go far away, and be together. Somewhere we could be accepted, be ourselves. Somewhere we could be safe, and not have to hide who we are." Her voice became impossibly small. "You promised me."

"I'm so sorry Freya," said Merlin. He felt weak and drained, half-sure he would collapse at any moment, and wholly not caring. "Please, please believe me. I wanted so badly for things to be different. Not a day goes by that I don't feel awful for not being able to protect you. Please Freya, I'm so sorry."

Freya took another step away from him, a sob escaping her. This was wrong, this was all so wrong…

Merlin froze. This _was_ wrong. Freya was kind, Freya was loving and caring and… and Freya was dead.

This wasn't his Freya.

Merlin stumbled backwards and the woman, the imposter in front of him narrowed her eyes. Merlin's mind was still trying to wade through the muck suddenly weighing down his brain. There was something… something he was supposed to remember… about this forest, about why he was there.

"Are you leaving me again, Merlin?" Freya's - no, no not Freya, someone, something else's - voice had become dark and cold. "Are you really abandoning me again?"

Merlin shook his head wildly, yelling "shut up, shut up!" His hands tangled in his hair and he tried to concentrate. Why was he here? What was it about this forest..?

The banshee. He was here because they had been hunting a banshee.

"Do I mean nothing to you, Merlin?"

Banshees… they were creatures of magic. They lived off the souls of those they killed, they could get into your mind and…

The imposter was yelling at him now. "Who will you turn to without me? Your precious prince? He that would kill you if he knew the truth?"

They pretended to be the dead.

"Don't leave me, Merlin!"

They imitated the loved and lost of their victim.

"Merlin!"

It was a banshee here, now, yelling at him in the form of his beloved. A banshee was pretending to be his Freya.

With a shout of panic and sorrow Merlin's arm flew out and the banshee was thrown back, slamming into the trunk of a thick tree. It hissed at him and just as he readied himself for another attack, it vanished.

Merlin stared listlessly at the place it had been and slowly sank to his knees, feeling as if all his strength had disappeared with it. His entire frame trembled and he could feel the tears trailing down his cheeks but didn't care enough to wipe them away.

* * *

They agreed Leon should stay with Elyan by the fire while Lancelot went in search of their wayward servant. Stepping away from the campsite, he looked for signs of the clumsy warlock and quickly found a trail to follow. He thought back to the expression on Merlin's face that morning. It had been clear to him Merlin had the notion to do something reckless. Now, he simply hoped he hadn't made the wrong decision in leaving him to it. Lancelot didn't dare call out his friend's name so as not to alert any possible enemies, but he did soon pick up the pace.

A pained shout echoed around him and he broke into a run. He dodged trees and sidestepped roots and rocks, now undeniably panicking. _God, oh god, if he's..._ Finally seeing his friend - alone and on his knees, facing away from him and remaining completely still - he dashed over and knelt in front of him, searching for injuries.

"Merlin, what happened? Are you hurt?" Merlin's eyes were red and there were tear tracks down his face. He looked more like a lost boy than an all-powerful warlock. "Merlin, come on now, speak to me."

Slowly Merlin's gaze focused and he seemed to see Lancelot for the first time. "Wh… what are you doing here?"

"I've been looking for you. What's your excuse?" Lancelot retorted with no real venom.

"I…" Merlin looked around them. "I was looking for something." Abruptly he stood, wiping his face clean, as if just realising what he'd been doing.

"The banshee?" Lancelot asked.

An odd look crossed Merlin's features at the mention but it was gone as quickly as it had been. "Yeah. I figured I could…" He took a deep breath. "I figured I could kill it."

"And did you?"

"Didn't find it." Merlin smiled sheepishly and turned in direction of the campsite.

"Then what - "

"How did you go? Any better luck?"

Lancelot frowned at the quick sidestep. What the hell had happened? And why was Merlin hiding it from him? "Yes, actually. It tried for Elyan, but I killed it." At this, Merlin paused and stared at Lancelot in shock. "What? I guess you don't need magic to kill it."

"Are you sure?" There was an urgency to Merlin's tone that Lancelot didn't understand. He scrutinised his friend carefully.

"Definitely. It's dead."

Merlin stared at him a moment longer before continuing to trek back to the others. "Oh," was all he said.

Lancelot followed him slowly, his mind whirring. There was something very obviously wrong here. And he had no idea how to help.

* * *

When Arthur returned to their camp with Gwaine and Percival it was to a shell-shocked Elyan, a wary Leon, a distracted Lancelot and Merlin being so quiet it was as if someone had died. Leon explained what had happened with the banshee away from where Elyan sat, staring into the coals of the now dead fire. It was a very bitter-sweet ending to their quest.

Arthur declared they would leave immediately after lunch, wanting to be home as soon as possible. There was a general air of agreement, everyone subdued by what the banshee had managed to do before Lancelot impaled it with his sword.

It was within an hour of riding that Arthur realised something important. He had been quietly mulling over how to boost the morale of his men (and had thus far come up with nothing) and finally he realised why it was so difficult.

He remembered a few months back, when they'd been on a patrol to the southern border. It had gone sour when they'd happened across a serket nest. They had been swarmed from all sides and it had been a miracle they'd survived at all. A miracle in the form of boulders inexplicably falling from the nearby cliff and crushing half of the monsters. Unfortunately, they did not escape completely unscathed.

Sir Balan had been a good man, and an excellent knight. He had always fought hard, determined to prove himself even after he'd been given a position as a royal knight of Camelot. He had actually been pushing Percival out of the way of attack when the serket struck him down.

Arthur had felt something in him break at the loss, and he knew the other knights felt the same way. There had been mourning, silent and stoic.

And then Merlin was talking, speaking of the time Balan had begged him for a place to hide with the royal cook on his heels. It turned out he had been caught sneaking a snack out of the kitchens, and everyone knew you didn't want the cook catching you. She could be surprisingly terrifying for someone of her stature. Gwaine commented that he always knew he liked Balan for a reason and suddenly the mood was lightened with laughter and reminisces of their fallen comrade.

It was not the only instance; Merlin was always brightening things in one way or another, always turning a sombre situation into something a little less awful.

But not this time. Merlin remained studiously silent, riding right behind Arthur as always, seemingly gazing away into nothing as they travelled. There was no banter, no inspiring speech, no encouragement sent Elyan's way. Arthur had barely had to find ways to cheer his men up since Merlin appeared at his side so many years ago, and now, without that usual help, Arthur was at a loss.

"You look like you're about ready to fall off your horse there, Merlin."

Arthur turned back at the sound of Gwaine's voice, to see Merlin had indeed been leaning to the left precariously. At the mention of his name, Merlin shook his head as if clearing it and straightened up. "Just lost in thought, is all," he replied.

"That must be a first," Arthur muttered without thinking.

Not that he regretted it. Percival snickered and Elyan smiled and Merlin rolled his eyes - in effect, looking more like himself than he had all day.

"The way he treats you, Merlin, really," Gwaine piped up in a voice of mock-offence. "I wouldn't stand for it. You should quit."

Merlin scoffed. "He'd be dead within the week."

Ignoring Lancelot's sudden need to clear his throat, Arthur retorted "please. You're the one who couldn't even catch one lousy rabbit."

"I'm telling you, I had it in my hands!"

"Right, and you _let it go_," Arthur said sceptically. "And if that's true, it just makes you more of a girl than I thought."

"I'm sure it was especially cute," Elyan added and Arthur quickly turned forward to hide his grin. That was more like it. They were getting back on track.

Now maybe Merlin would stop sulking about whatever was wrong and get back to acting like Merlin.


	3. Chapter 3

**There's so much dialogue in this chapter. I honestly don't know if that's a good thing or not. My English teacher would say it's a bad thing, but I mean. He only studied English for a living, right?**

Merlin lay with his hands cushioning his head, staring up at the leafy canopy above him. He much preferred the open spaces where there was at least a view to the stars when they went on these long trips. They expected to make it out of the forest by tomorrow, at least, and follow the hills back to Camelot.

None of that, however, was on his mind right now. His mind was buzzing, thoughts crashing about and colliding with each other in his head as he tried to make sense, any sense of what the hell happened to him today.

Lancelot had killed the banshee. It was dead. Quite possibly it was over before Merlin had even found… whoever it was he'd found. Surely it couldn't be Freya. Freya would forgive him for what happened… wouldn't she? Merlin knew he was to blame, he knew he should have been there to protect her. Maybe he didn't deserve to be forgiven. Maybe it was only fair.

But even if Freya did blame him, it wouldn't matter, because Freya was dead. She'd been dead for years. He visited the lake of her funeral often enough to know that. He could never forget the look of her in that boat, so peaceful after so much pain.

Merlin wiped at his eyes irritably. This was getting him nowhere. Perhaps he really was losing his mind. Really it wouldn't be all that surprising -

_Merlin…_

Merlin sat bolt upright, his head flicking in different directions as he tried to pinpoint the direction of Freya's voice. Arthur and the knights all slept soundly, Gwaine snoring horrendously with his mouth hanging open. The fire had burned down to glowing coals. Shadows danced around him, flitting through the trees, surrounding him. Merlin stood and crept slowly further into the trees, waiting to hear his name.

This meant he was wholly unprepared when a shriek instead ripped through his mind.

Immediately he dashed forward, following his instincts or that same magical pull, he didn't know and he didn't care. Freya was in pain. She was in pain and she was scared but this time, this time Merlin could save her.

It didn't take him nearly as long to reach her as last time. She was sprawled on her knees on the mossy ground, looking up at him with such intense sorrow in her eyes Merlin was prepared to do anything to take it away.

"Why did you hurt me, Merlin?" She sobbed. All the blood drained from his face.

"I'm so sorry Freya, I thought - I thought - "

"Do you not trust me?" She sniffed, tears welling up in her eyes. "Do you see me as a monster too, now?"

"No Freya, never." Merlin breathed and suddenly he was on the ground in front of her, cupping her cheeks in his bony hands. He didn't care how impossible this was, he didn't care how she got here or what she was doing here, all he cared about was taking that pain away. Freya leaned into his touch, something in her expression softening. "I could never see you as a monster. I know you."

"And I you," she whispered lovingly. Merlin leaned closer and their foreheads rested against each other. "I love you, Merlin."

Merlin's voice came out choked. "Freya - "

"Merlin! Where are you?!"

Merlin startled, jumping away from Freya at the intruding voice, and looked around hastily. He thought he heard a growl before he turned back and Freya had disappeared. "No!" He rushed to his feet and whipped around, reaching with his magic for that pull that would bring him back to his love, but it was gone, she was gone and -

"There you are!" And there was Gwaine, looking wide awake and more than a bit worried. "Bloody hell, Merlin, when I woke up to see you were gone I'd thought the worst!" He paused at the intense glare Merlin was shooting him, only half visible in the dark. "What?"

"You couldn't just - just leave me be?" the manservant snapped harshly.

Gwaine held up his hands, confusion in his voice. "Whoa, hey. Sorry mate but when your friend disappears in the middle of the night in a forest known for evil magical creatures, you allow yourself to worry a bit."

"I'm not helpless, Gwaine!" Merlin yelled, and stormed away from him, further away from camp.

"Wait, hang on!" Gwaine quickly caught up to him and blocked his path, resting his hands on the boy's narrow shoulders. "I know that! You think I wouldn't go through that whole stupid Fisher King ordeal and think you can't take care of yourself?" His grip tightened. "What happened, Merlin? What's wrong?"

Merlin took a deep steadying breath and shook himself from the knight's grip, stepping around him. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. You should head back."

Gwaine grabbed his arm, gentle but firm. "I think we should both go back." Merlin tried to struggle out of his grip, feeling irrational panic rise in his chest. He was wasting time, time that could be used to find Freya before she was gone forever. He had to see her, he had to talk to her, _now_.

A sudden sharp pain to his cheek had him blinking owlishly and staring at Gwaine as if for the first time. His friend was looking concerned and mighty guilty. Merlin's hand slowly rose to touch his sore cheek and he realised Gwaine had slapped him. It was only after that that he too realised Gwaine was talking.

"I'm sorry Merlin, are you okay? I didn't want to hurt you or anything but you were yelling and struggling and it was like you couldn't even see me…"

Merlin shook his head, feeling as if he was dislodging water from his ears, and tried to focus. "Sorry, yeah, I'm fine. I don't…" He paused, noticing scratches on Gwaine's cheek he was fairly sure hadn't been there before. "Oh my god, did I do that?"

Gwaine chuckled, relieved. "They're just scratches, don't worry about it. Have to try harder than that to take me out. You back with me, then?" Merlin nodded. He could feel a headache coming on. _What the hell is happening to me?_ "Not going to fight me if I steer you back this time?"

"No. No, of course not. I can't believe…" The warlock rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "Let's head back."

Gwaine nodded, and the look of worry still on his face only made Merlin feel all the more guilty.

* * *

As they packed up camp and readied their horses to move out for the day, Gwaine couldn't resist the occasional side-glance at his friend. Merlin hadn't explained why he'd been wandering about in the middle of the night so far from the party. He hadn't given any reason as to why Gwaine had found him in some sort of trance, so desperate to reach whatever destination was in his head that he physically struggled against Gwaine's efforts to bring him back. He'd simply headed straight for his mattress, tripping slightly in the darkness as he did so.

They'd had no chance to speak of it this morning of course, though the knight doubted Merlin would be suddenly willing to explain. Unfortunately, whatever was happening, it was clearly not good, and Merlin appeared to be in over his head. And obviously the problem wasn't going away overnight.

Gwaine wouldn't bring it up to Arthur. Not yet. He'd keep an eye on the servant and if things got any worse, then he'd involve the princess. No sense getting him riled up over nothing.

"Let's head out," called the regent himself, mounting his horse with ease. The knights mirrored his actions. Lancelot nudged Merlin with his foot, snapping him out of yet another daze the boy had fallen into, and Merlin, too, climbed onto his horse.

As they began riding at a leisurely pace, Gwaine wondered if perhaps it might be a bit late to not worry Arthur. He kept sneaking glances at Merlin much like Gwaine was doing. And, now that he thought about it, Lancelot had been overly-pensive (even for him) since yesterday. Perhaps he had not been the first to notice their friend's odd behaviour. It was comforting, in a way, knowing he wasn't the only one looking out for the boy.

The rest of the day seemingly passed without incident, except for the fact that Merlin grew increasingly agitated, his head constantly twitching one way or the other. There wasn't much chatter, though the silence was at least infinitely more comfortable than yesterday. By dusk they had reached the outskirts of that accursed forest, and had a clear path to Camelot to follow tomorrow.

They set up their bed rolls as Merlin surveyed the rabbit cooking over the fire. "If I never have that bloody animal again, it will be too soon," moaned Arthur, eyeing the carcass with distaste.

"Yes, I'm sorry Merlin but even with your cooking rabbit starts to lose its taste after the sixth day," added Leon jokingly. They'd practically been living off the stuff since their trek had begun, and Gwaine shared their sentiments.

No one seemed all that surprised when a hum of acknowledgement replaced Merlin's expected retort - more just disappointed. No, Gwaine had definitely not been the only one to notice their friend's odd behaviour. It was Lancelot, however, who seemed prepared to make the first move.

Where Arthur was always lost in the ways of comforting a friend, and Gwaine unsure, Lancelot had never hesitated in confronting such issues; particularly when it involved Merlin. Gwaine of course knew the two had met long before he'd come into the picture, but as far as he could tell Lancelot actually hadn't been around much before Morgana's attack. He often wondered what it was that made the two so close, always speaking in whispers and trading glances as if sharing in some big joke. He now wondered if it was the same thing that had Lancelot approaching Merlin by the fire and murmuring something in a low voice, to which Merlin shook his head.

As Gwaine watched from the corner of his eye, Lancelot frowned and said something else, more insistent. Merlin sighed and rested his chin on his knees but didn't answer. Lancelot huffed and stood abruptly. "I'll scout the perimeter for potential threats, if it pleases you sire."

Arthur nodded without looking at the knight, his gaze fixed on Merlin. "Very good. Take someone with you."

"I could do with stretching my legs," Gwaine volunteered immediately. The two slowly walked away from the flickering light and further into the darkness, until they were right on the edge of the tree line.

"It will be good to enjoy the stars tomorrow night," Lancelot commented softly as they began their circuit.

"It's going to get bloody hot riding under the sun again though."

Lancelot shrugged and they continued on in silence for a few minutes. Until finally, "you might as well be out with it, Gwaine."

Gwaine hesitated only a moment before responding. "You know what's wrong with him, don't you?"

There was no need to distinguish who they were talking about. Surprisingly, Lancelot just sighed again and said with sincerity "I truly wish I did."

Gwaine narrowed his eyes all the same. "Really? You have no idea? The way you two were talking…"

Lancelot smiled humourlessly. "If your eavesdropping had been more successful you would know I couldn't get anything out of him." He frowned at the ground, taking a large step over a fallen tree branch. "I didn't think there were still…" He paused and looked worriedly at Gwaine, as if catching himself.

"Still things he kept from you?" Gwaine finished for him. "Don't think me to be stupid, Lance, I've seen the way you two act. A blind man could see that." Lancelot studiously avoided his gaze. Gwaine chuckled, trying not to sound hurt. "I get that Merlin holds things close to his chest but it's difficult to imagine there's anything he feels the need to hide from the rest of us."

"We all have our secrets, Gwaine."

Thinking of his true heritage, Gwaine conceded. "This is true." Mind you, he'd told Merlin his.

They continued on in companionable silence for a while longer before Gwaine spoke up again. "I don't suppose whatever's bothering him will just fix itself."

"Somehow I don't see it being that simple," Lancelot replied drily.

"No. It never is."

* * *

Seven horses rode across roiling green hills at a fast pace, their riders barely needing to steer them the right way. Camelot was a straight ride ahead for the next three days, with a final day's stretch through the more forgiving forest surrounding Camelot's walls. The drudgery of riding, unfortunately for Merlin, made it very difficult to keep his mind from wandering. And all he could think about was Freya.

He hadn't been able to go looking for her last night; he could feel Lancelot watching him, lying awake just a few feet behind him. He had tried to confront Merlin earlier, asking him to walk with him and explain what was going on, but Merlin was having none of it. Freya's voice had slithered through his head, cautioning him, begging him to keep her safe. _Don't let them find me_, she had pleaded. _They will only hurt me. Please don't let them hurt me, Merlin._

Merlin had felt cold at the thought. He was feeling himself get more and more nervous around his friends. His skin had started to crawl whenever they got too close or spoke too loud. _They will hurt me,_ Freya continued to warn him. _They will kill me, just like before. You don't want that, do you Merlin?_

He really didn't. He might finally have a chance to be with his love again. He was not going to fail her a second time.

So he kept quiet and held some distance from the others, having to physically force himself not to wince when Gwaine clapped him on the back, or Percival nudged him with his arm. _They're my friends,_ he tried to remind himself. But the discomfort grew.

Freya's voice, too, had grown. He could hear her now, louder than ever. He had almost feared she would fade as they left the forest but her presence only grew stronger, as if she was riding on the same horse behind him. She no longer simply whispered his name but talked to him, a constant stream of loving murmurings and wary warnings. His awareness was slowly diminishing to the horse under him and the voice in his head.

_I need you, Merlin,_ Freya continued. _I miss you. I can't continue like this forever. I will need to go back soon._

_No!_ Merlin cried out, careful to keep his voice internal. _Don't leave Freya, not again!_

_You can come with me,_ she crooned. _Please come with me._

Merlin forced his head up to see the blond man riding a bit ahead of him, his posture straight and regal. He couldn't leave. He had to stay with Arthur. He had to protect Arthur.

_The man who killed me?_ Freya hissed. _The same man that would have you killed if he were to know your true identity?_

Merlin shook his head, unsure if she could even see the motion. _He wouldn't,_ he tried, uneasy by the uncertainty in his own voice. _I know Arthur._

_But he doesn't know you,_ _Merlin,_ she sighed. _None of them do._

_Lancelot -_

_Not even he knows everything you've done!_ Freya shouted in his ear. _Have you told him what you did to Morgana?_

_I was trying to save -_

_You were trying to kill, Merlin!_ Freya seemed to be losing her patience. Merlin cringed at the harsh truth to her words. _Morgana could still have been saved if you hadn't turned on her! All those now buried thanks to her rule might not have suffered if it weren't for you! Does your precious Lancelot know that?_

_Gaius! Gaius knows me!_

_Do you really think he still loves you, though?_ Freya asked sorrowfully. She sounded so genuine, so sad for him. _It's a wonder he hasn't yet turned you in, after how many times you have failed him. It must only be a matter of time, now._

Merlin gasped aloud, feeling physically sick at her words.

"Merlin?"

His vision was blurry and there was all this white noise in his ears. Freya was right, was the truly scary part. It was his fault. He had so much blood on his hands. Not even Lancelot could forgive him for that. Not even Gaius.

No one could forgive what he was responsible for.

He was truly alone.

"Merlin what's - "

_You don't have to be alone, Merlin._

Merlin didn't even realise he'd stopped his horse but suddenly he was turning it around and galloping away, towards the pull that was now stronger than ever.

"Merlin!"

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and felt the magic seep from his bones, time slowing around him. His horse carried him through the soundless fields, the only noise Freya's voice in his head saying _yes, Merlin. Come to me._

**Things are about to get hectic. In case you couldn't tell.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Holy wow did I have fun writing this chapter. Um... that being said, sorry for what you're about to read. Really.**

**WARNING: from here on out, there will be suicidal themes. Sorry. Again.**

**P.S shout out to ReluctantSlashFan for being just generally pretty awesome. If you haven't read her work, you are one of few, and you are missing out.**

"Merlin!" Arthur called out his servant's name in frustration as he turned his horse and suddenly galloped away. Before he could even urge his own horse after him, Merlin had disappeared as if right into thin air. "What the - "

The knights all looked around them in a moment of confusion before Gwaine cursed. "What the hell was that?!" he demanded. Arthur continued to stare in the direction Merlin had been, wondering the exact same thing.

"Sire!" Leon called, drawing his attention. The lead knight had descended from his horse and was examining the grass. "There are hoof marks in the ground leading north."

"How can there be any sort of tracks?" asked Elyan incredulously. "He just vanished!"

Leon straightened up and shrugged helplessly, as at a loss as the rest of them. He looked to Arthur in askance.

Arthur shook himself out of the shock of seeing his friend vanish right in front of him and nodded. "We'll follow them and see where they lead," he said imperiously. He hoped his tone of voice managed to hide the small ripples of fear running through him. Merlin had been acting strangely for days, and now this? It had to be some kind of sorcery. Gods knew what some malicious magician wanted with a manservant, but Arthur wasn't particularly sure he wanted to find out.

"Sire," Lancelot said quietly, "perhaps not all of us should go."

"And why not?" snapped Gwaine before Arthur could answer.

Lancelot hesitated, his eyes to dropping to the ground. "We have no idea what we could be riding into. It might not be safe."

"Not safe for us but safe for a skinny manservant, Lancelot?" said Arthur incredulously. He would never have thought Lancelot to hesitate in helping a friend, especially not Merlin of all people. "Stay behind if you wish, but I am going after him."

"Of course not, sire," Lancelot said, but the worry did not fall from his face. Arthur nudged his horse in the right direction and took off, pride warming the cold worry in his stomach when all of his knights followed.

* * *

Merlin finally slowed his horse as he reached the ruins of what appeared to have once been a temple of some kind. Most likely destroyed and ransacked during the days of the Great Purge, it now stood as rubble among long grass, moss creeping through the cracks of the stone. One wall still stood, jagged at the top where the roof had collapsed and it was behind this wall where he dismounted and finally felt something in his heart settle; there was Freya, waiting for him. She had a small, soft smile on her face, the same smile she'd had when watching Merlin sheepishly offer her the little flower he'd conjured in his hands so long ago. Now he walked towards her with relief sagging his shoulders.

"You're here," Freya murmured. "Will you stay with me this time?"

Merlin nodded eagerly. "I'm not leaving you again."

Freya's face lit up, her beauty only increasing. Merlin couldn't help the tingling that ran down his spine. Finally, they would be together. "There's just one more thing you have to do for me, Merlin. One more, small thing, and then nothing can come between us."

"Anything," Merlin breathed.

Freya held up one hand to present a dagger Merlin didn't remember seeing before. Its ornate wooden handle was covered in intricate carvings that belied the fatal sharpness of the glittering iron blade. Holding this dagger out to him, Freya murmured with a loving tone, "you must die."

Merlin slowly reached up to hold the dagger, closely examining the spirals etched into the handle. It appeared they continued on to the actual blade, right up to the tip. Her request, somehow, did not surprise him. Freya had died after all. It only made sense that he needed to as well.

And yet… "I don't know, Freya." There was this loud buzzing in his head, in his heart, through his whole body, like a swarm of angered bees fighting to break free. Something about this was… very wrong. "I have a purpose here. I know I do. I just can't remember…" there was a reason he was here, on this earth. He couldn't just abandon that, could he? And yet for the life of him, he couldn't recall what that reason was.

"You were willing to give that up to be with me last time, were you not?" Freya asked calmly. "Are you still willing?" Her voice turned cold. "Or do you no longer love me?"

Merlin looked back up from the dagger weighing heavily in his hand to drink in everything that Freya was. Beautiful, loving, kind, gentle… magical. They shared something, above that of attraction or affection. They were the same. "I do love you, Freya."

Freya stroked his cheek softly, before dragging her hand to his shoulder and gently pushing him to his knees. "Then do it, Merlin. Make it so we may be together forever." Merlin held the dagger out in front of him and the angry buzzing got louder. "You were right, Merlin. We are the same." He strengthened his grip and his resolve, aiming the dagger right at his stomach where it would slice easily through. "We are two sides of the same coin."

Merlin froze and the buzzing became almost unbearable. _T__wo sides of the same coin…_ "Freya, this isn't - "

Suddenly hands were on him, pulling him back, wrenching the dagger out of his hands, and there in front of him, between him and Freya, was Arthur, and he had his sword out and…

"_NO!_" Merlin screamed, fighting the arms holding him in place. He struggled uselessly as he watched Arthur kill the love of his life for a second time. The sword went cleanly through her chest and she shrieked up at the blond man with pure malice in her eyes. Arthur jerked his sword back and stepped away. Merlin continued to thrash and scream, no match for the strength of those who continued to hold him, to yell in his ear. He tried to lash out with his magic, to push them away, but nothing happened and his panic grew. Freya fell to her knees and her gaze fell on him. There was nothing but hate there, pure anger and hate. Until it twisted to pain as suddenly her flesh began to bubble and boil, shifting before him. Before Merlin's very eyes, Freya turned to ash and dissipated in the wind.

Merlin turned to Arthur, focusing on him through the tears in his eyes. "You bastard! You bastard, you killed her!" He didn't see the hurt on Arthur's face, he didn't hear the placating murmurings of whoever it was that held him down. Nor did he see the shocked confusion when he continued, "you killed her again! Why?! Why couldn't you just stay out of this?! She's dead because of you!" Whatever strength had been keeping him fighting was gone as quickly as Freya was in front of him and he collapsed against the calloused hands. But he did not stop his desperate ramblings. "You killed her. You took her from me all over again. You killed her…"

And for a long time after that, the only sound in the air was the broken sobbing of a lost man.

* * *

Arthur stared at his friend in front of him, not having moved since he had slayed the banshee, not even after Percival had hesitantly let him go. Leon was holding the dagger at arm's length as if worried it would infect him. Lancelot was crouched by Merlin's still form, talking to him quietly and completely failing to get a response. Gwaine was on his other side with a hand on his shoulder, looking lost.

_You bastard! You killed her!_ The angry screams would not stop replaying over and over in Arthur's head, no matter how desperately he wished they would. _You killed her again!_

For the life of him, Arthur couldn't remember a time when he felt so helpless. What had Merlin meant by that? _You took her from me all over again…_ He was sure he'd never seen the girl the banshee had taken the form of. Certainly he hadn't killed her. He would have remembered killing someone obviously so close to his friend. Or rather, he wouldn't have done it in the first place.

Merlin continued to stare in front of him, his eyes unfocused. Gwaine finally stood and walked over to the prince. "Still nothing," he reported unnecessarily. He sounded as anxious as Arthur felt. "I don't understand. Leon says Elyan snapped out of it straight away."

Arthur shook his head. None of it made sense. When they'd finally caught up to Merlin, found him with a dagger in his hands a beautiful woman in front of him, the cold fear in his gut had been indescribable. If not for the quick movement of his knights around him he may have been frozen to the spot, watched as Merlin…

But it just didn't make sense! No one had even thought to assume there would be a second banshee, but why would it go after Merlin? Gaius had explained that the more powerful the banshee, the stronger its victim would be. So how was it that one that had targeted _Merlin_ not only managed to torment him for days, but to follow him out of the forest, so far from its home? How had it lured Merlin away, blinded him so well? How had it just taken him from thin air, right under their noses?

And why the hell hadn't Merlin snapped out of it?

_You took her from me all over again._

_You killed her!_

What in the gods' names was going on?

"We'll make camp here tonight," Arthur said. It wasn't nearing dark yet but he didn't see them moving any time soon. Leon, Elyan and Percival all nodded, immediately going about doing the tasks their manservant would usually do for them.

"There was a creek a small ways back," Elyan muttered. "I'll go water the horses."

Lancelot didn't move from Merlin's side, continuing to talk futilely. Merlin remained how he was, sitting still as stone. Gwaine and Arthur watched on.

"She must have been someone special," Gwaine sighed, his eyes mournful. But as he turned to face Arthur, they narrowed. "What did he mean, you killed her _again_?"

_You bastard! You killed her!_

Arthur sighed, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders. "I truly have no idea."

"Well you might want to get some idea, Arthur," said Gwaine. No mocking tone, no stupid nickname. Gwaine, for once in his life, was completely serious. "Because if Merlin doesn't snap out of it soon, I'll be finding out for myself." He patted Arthur on the shoulder. "And I'd hate to end up blaming you for this." The hand fell away and Gwaine walked back over to the boy on the ground. "I'd probably get in trouble for punching a prince."

* * *

Merlin did snap out of it, eventually. Arthur slept fitfully that night, only finally drifting off to dream of despair and hatred and screams. From the constant shifting he could hear around him, he knew he was not the only one struggling. But even as he woke up in the middle of night, there Merlin continued to sit, staring into nothing, shivering despite the multiple blankets Lancelot had draped over him. Arthur had wanted to help, but he couldn't bring himself to come near his manservant. Every time he tried, the accusations lit up in his mind all over again. _You killed her!_

It was only when he awoke with the rising sun that he finally saw a change. Merlin had a stick and was poking the fire with it, shifting logs about needlessly with dark shadows under his eyes. His hair was mussed up and he held an expression of melancholy, but he was moving, and Arthur would take any good sign he could.

"Morning." Apparently he was also responsive.

"Morning," Arthur replied hesitantly. None of the others had yet woken up, even Lancelot who had studiously refused to fall asleep for the longest time, choosing instead to watch over his friend. An awkward silence fell over them, though Arthur couldn't tell if Merlin even noticed. He just continued to poke the fire, avoiding Arthur's gaze. Finally, Arthur took a deep breath. "Merlin - "

"I'm sorry."

Arthur stared incredulously. "What?"

"I said some pretty awful things, yesterday. I realise now, what Fr… what that thing was. I shouldn't have accused you." Merlin's voice broke and he lowered his head further. "Sorry."

"Merlin…" Arthur was so out of his depth he didn't know which way was up. But for heaven's sake, he knew that was wrong. Quickly he stood up and walked over to sit next to his friend. Only now did he see the minute tremors running through Merlin's skinny frame. "Merlin, you have nothing to apologise for. You were enchanted. You were blinded by the evils of magic." Merlin's shaking only got worse and Arthur frowned. Attempting to at least appear sure in his actions, he brought an arm around to rest on Merlin's shoulders. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he repeated. "Magic's to blame for this. Not you."

For the life of him, he couldn't understand why it was at that moment that Merlin dropped his head into his hands and cried. But he stayed with his friend, rubbing his shoulder in what silent comfort he could offer.

**Despite how it looks, I'm pretty sure this story isn't even half over. Just so ya know.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I got distracted from writing Merlin by watching Merlin. Oops. It certainly reminded how precious our warlock is though. He deserved such a happier life.**

**Ironically, ReluctantSlashFan wants to hide Merlin from me and wrap him in bubble wrap. Nice try, dude.**

**Quick reply to one of my guest reviewers (and anyone else who finds it an issue): I do realise Merlin is technically not a boy, but a young adult. However, I think Arthur and the knights sometimes forget this. He is younger than all of them and, in their eyes, weaker. Not to mention his constant cheery attitude and image of naivety gives him a bit of an innocent boyish appearance. As I write from multiple perspectives, I keep this in mind, and try to survey Merlin how the other characters would. So I will still occasionally be referring to him as 'boy', despite the inaccuracy. It works for me. I'm sorry if this turns you off my writing. I do understand your point of view, but I'm going to stick with my methods.**

**Other than that, I'm glad a lot of you are enjoying this story! Thanks so much for the support.**

When Merlin felt more than heard Arthur sidle up beside him as he walked through the woods, one day's march from Camelot, he wasn't surprised. He knew some kind of talk about what happened would be inevitable, and was almost impressed Arthur had managed to wait three whole days before the interrogation. Lancelot had not been so patient, confronting him just before they rode away from those haunting temple ruins. Gwaine had systematically tried getting him to open up until earlier that day when Merlin had finally lost his patience and yelled at him to back off.

Merlin really would have to apologise to Gwaine later.

But Arthur had kept his distance, albeit with often wary glances directed his way. Until tonight, after Merlin had snapped at them all to stop babying him and that he knew how to collect some damn firewood on his own, and to just let him do his job.

Really, Merlin had a lot of apologising to do.

Arthur walked next to him in silence for a while, and Merlin refused to be the one to break it. They occasionally paused and stooped to grab kindling of some kind, but otherwise just walked in heavy silence.

Finally, Arthur took a deep breath.

"How are you feeling?"

Merlin thought back over the past few days of travelling. He considered the many times he'd found himself zoning out only to be shaken aware by a concerned knight; the voice that still insisted on whispering through his mind, no longer the voice of his Freya but a nameless murmur; the constant memories that suddenly ambushed him of not only Freya but Will, Balinor, Morgana, the many screaming victims of Uther's war on sorcery that Merlin had been unable to save; the way he sometimes found his eyes drifting to the flames of their campfire, or the dagger that glinted from Leon's satchel on his horse, or that one river they had crossed that would be just deep enough to drown in if one were held down.

"Fine," was the answer he gave to Arthur. He didn't have to look to his side to know Arthur was rolling his eyes.

"You don't seem fine."

"Doesn't mean I'm not."

Arthur stopped and, with a hand on Merlin's shoulder, forced him to do the same. It was the first physical contact they'd had since Arthur had tried to comfort him, rubbing his shoulder sympathetically while insulting everything that Merlin was.

Merlin didn't blame him for that. Over the past few days he'd even started to wonder if Arthur was right. Maybe magic really was just… evil.

Pushing those foreign thoughts away, as he had done so every time they reared their ugly head, Merlin turned and faced Arthur properly. He did his best to meet the prince's eyes, but his own constantly darted away. "Who was that girl, Merlin?"

Merlin stamped down on the sudden need to fidget. "You know who she was, Arthur. A banshee, nothing more."

"You know that's not what I mean." Arthur's voice was strained - he was trying desperately to keep his patience.

Having had three full days of dodging questions and avoiding this exact conversation, Merlin couldn't help but feel he should have been more prepared in his answers. "It doesn't matter."

The grip on his shoulder tightened. "It certainly didn't seem that way. It looked like she mattered a great deal."

Merlin hated himself for the shivering that suddenly wrecked his body. "Yes, well. Doesn't mean anything now, does it?" He tried to pull away, not wanting Arthur to feel his trembling, but Arthur did not let go, his expression intensifying.

"Why are you lying to me?"

Merlin jerked his shoulder forcefully from Arthur's grip and stepped back. "Just leave it, Arthur." After a slight hesitation, he added "please."

Arthur studied him for a moment before crossing his arms and looking at the ground. "I've been thinking a lot, you know. I think… I think I might have seen her before." Merlin's eyes widened and he remained stock-still. Had Arthur seen Freya before she shifted? He'd never asked about it, could never bring himself to. It would have been dark, surely he couldn't have gotten a good look… "It took a while for me to realise it, and I'm not sure where exactly I know her from. Maybe it's a trick of my memory," Arthur paused and scrutinised his manservant, the expression on his face, "but I don't think so."

Merlin tried unsuccessfully to school his features. "What's your point, Arthur?" His voice remained impressively steady.

"When I… You said I'd killed her _again_. That I'd taken her from you all over again." Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to slow his breathing. "What did you mean by that, Merlin?"

Would it be so bad to actually just tell Arthur? He didn't have to know everything. Just that Merlin had cared about the girl. Surely it shouldn't matter now, should it?

_No…_ that same, strange voice whispered. It was the same voice that had stopped him from talking to Gwaine, or even Lancelot who already knew so much. _He can't know. You mustn't let him in, Merlin. Don't let any of them in._ Merlin stared at Arthur, an internal battle flitting across his face._ He will know you helped her escape. She killed, Merlin. It will only make him hate you more._

Merlin didn't know when he'd started believing Arthur hated him at _all_. He didn't understand a lot of what had been going on in his head the past few days. But, just like every other time since the banshee had bewitched him, he let that unfamiliar voice win.

"I was under a spell, Arthur. You can't expect me to have made sense."

Arthur's shoulders drooped. He seemed to deflate at Merlin's denial. There was a long pause as the two stared each other down. "Fine," Arthur finally said through gritted teeth. "If that's really all you have to say… fine." He turned and stalked off back to where they had set up camp for the night. Merlin watched him go, feeling oddly hollow at the dismissal. He'd wanted Arthur to give up, hadn't he? To finally leave him alone? This was good.

"I don't need his comfort," Merlin muttered to himself, turning around and continuing his search for firewood.

_You don't deserve it_, the voice hissed in reply.

* * *

It was with a sense of relief that Merlin took the stairs to his guardian's chambers. The rest of the ride back had been silent and uncomfortable and Merlin was quite frankly tired of the looks the others had been sending his way. Stepping through the door and seeing the physician grinding some kind of leaf into powder at the small wooden table, however, did not bring the usual sense of comfort he expected. The anxious fluttering in his stomach that had been accompanying him for days did not settle down. "Hey Gaius," he said with a tired sigh.

Gaius turned and his face lit up at the sight of his ward. "Merlin! Welcome back, my boy." He rushed forward and Merlin let himself be enveloped in a warm hug. "I trust the quest went well, then?" He stepped back to look over his boy, a trained eye searching for injuries and finding none. "The banshee is dead?"

Merlin nodded, forcing the smile to stay on his face. "Lancelot killed it. It tried to get Elyan, but he's okay."

Gaius smiled with relief. "Wonderful. I shall check up on him later, but I'm glad to hear the banshee did not succeed. They are dangerous creatures. I couldn't help but be worried."

_Worried you would expose yourself. Worried you would let someone else down._

Merlin flinched at the unbidden thoughts and grinned at Gaius. "Nope. Was surprisingly easy, really." The fluttering in his stomach seemed to grow at the lie.

Gaius gestured towards the table. "Well, let me make you something to eat and you can tell me about it."

Merlin looked past him to the steps up to his room. "Actually Gaius, I'm pretty tired. All that riding on horseback…" he didn't need to fake the wince at the thought. "Think I'm just going to lie down for a while."

"Oh." Gaius seemed surprised, but nodded. "Go on, then. I'll call you for dinner later. Has Arthur given you the day off?"

Arthur had dismissed him with barely a word once they'd rode through the city gates. "Yeah, said he didn't want me passing out in the stables," Merlin replied instead.

With that, he made a beeline for his room, closing his door firmly behind him. Dropping his pack to the floor unceremoniously, he collapsed onto his bed and turned his gaze out the open window, where noise from the goings on of a late afternoon in Camelot drifted up to him. Smoke rose from chimneys in the lower town and the sun shone heavily down on the citadel. Outside, things were peaceful and happy.

Merlin swivelled his eyes to stare at the ceiling. He didn't move again until he was called down to dinner.

* * *

Arthur sat across from his father, having just filled him in on the details of their quest. There had been no response, and Arthur had not expected one. Uther only continued to stare out the window, the sun's rays highlighting the lines on his face, the greys of his hair. A finger would occasionally twitch, but there was no other movement from Uther to indicate he could even hear his son. Arthur felt he would never get used to seeing his father like this, so weak and defeated when once he had been so full of strength, so ready to fight. There was a time when Arthur believed nothing could slow the king down. Uther had not let anything get in his way from ruling how he thought was best. Though Arthur had not always agreed with Uther's decisions, he had admired the determination his father demonstrated. It was something he always did his best to imitate, but never could quite seem to get the hang of.

Even now, with the responsibility of an entire kingdom essentially resting in his hands, he needed the constant council of his uncle to feel assured. He wasn't sure he would have managed this long without Agravaine.

Without him and Merlin, if Arthur was being completely honest. As his thoughts turned to the manservant his anger made a reappearance, the anger that bloomed to cover the hurt and worry he'd now been feeling for days. Merlin had lied to him. He'd shut not only Arthur out but all of the knights, and he'd lied practically every time he'd opened his mouth since the banshee had attacked. He hadn't recovered in the way Elyan had. It was almost as if the banshee was still haunting him.

Arthur stood, patting his hand on top of his father's before leaving the room. It wasn't possible. He'd killed the banshee himself. It could no longer hurt his friend.

_You bastard! You killed her!_ Merlin's wild yells and unadulterated sobbing filled his head. No. The banshee may be dead, but it was still hurting Merlin.

Hell, it was still hurting him.

"Arthur!"

Arthur looked up from his musings and saw Gwen dashing up the corridor towards him, her face alight with happiness. Even now, her smile managed to bring one to his own face.

"Guinevere." His beloved reached him and threw her arms around him in a hug which he returned gratefully. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."

Gwen leaned back and looked up into his face, concern already settling on her delicate features. "Are you alright? I already saw Elyan, he told me everything that happened."

Arthur winced at that. "That means…"

"He told me about our father, yes," she admitted, finally pulling back to stand on her own. Her face had turned sad but her voice remained steady. "I… I hate that he had to see that."

"I know," Arthur murmured. Yelling and accusations again filled his mind. "That creature is nothing but torment."

Gwen gripped his hand. "And he told me about Merlin. How awful."

Arthur held her hand tightly. He remembered the despair and anger on his friend's face, directed at him simply for saving his life. "You have no idea," he whispered. They stood like that for a while, simply soaking up each other's presence after two weeks of departure. Finally, Arthur asked hesitantly, "did you know of… of a woman in Merlin's life? One especially close to him?"

Gwen shook her head sadly. "I never met anyone of that nature, and Merlin never told me…" she sighed. "I have no idea who it could have been."

At least it had not just been him Merlin had been keeping secrets from. Arthur nodded and reluctantly let go, instantly missing the warmth of her hand in his. He still needed to update Agravaine before the day was through.

* * *

_A fire blazed before his eyes, the flames arching high as if reaching for the grey clouds above them. It was massive and chaotic, dancing and flicking sparks every which way. The heat was unbearable, the brightness blinding. He fought and struggled, trying to push himself back, to escape the pyre in front of him, but hands were holding him firm, bringing him ever closer. The heat grew. He could feel his face burning, his eyes drying, his skin stinging. And still they dragged him closer._

_Merlin tried to call out, to cry for help, to let his magic loose. Anything so he could escape the pain that awaited him. Nothing worked._

_Suddenly the flames had engulfed him and even then he could not scream. He writhed in silent agony, losing all sense, all coherent thought. A face stared back at him through the flames, hard and cold in contrast._

_"Arthur," Merlin croaked, reaching a hand out to him. "Please, Arthur!"_

_"Burn, sorcerer," was Arthur's hateful reply. "Burn for all of your sins."_

_"No! Arthur!" The face faded and the flames grew higher. Merlin watched on in horror as his the skin began to melt from his hand in front of him. "Come back! Please!" Hundreds of faces filled his vision, none of them Arthur's but all just as angry, just as spiteful. Many he recognised - Leon, Lancelot, Percival, all the knights were there. Will glared down at him. His own father. And then there were others, so many faces, none of them he knew but all of them he understood - they had died or suffered because of him. And there they all were now, here to watch him burn, to celebrate his death. The pain became unbearable. The heat was too much. His vision blurred and faded and all he could hear was the shouts of those wishing to see him suffer._

**I think I need to change the genre of this fic to angst. So. Much. _Angst._**


End file.
